EDITOR'S DRAWER.

One of the visitors replied: "No, we've had nothing of the kind, where I live."

"I thought so! I knew it!" returned the patient, frowning. "I have an enemy. Ice! ICE! Why, I ordered one of my very best earthquakes for your part of the country! It was to have ripped up the earth, and sent the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico. Look here!" he continued, pointing to a crack in the plastering, "that's one of my earthquakes! What do you think of that? I've got more orders for earthquakes than I can attend to in a year. I've got four coming off up north this afternoon-two in Vermont !"

THAT was a good story that was told of an occurrence which took place in a stage-coach one morning many years ago in the western part of this State. A young, conceited fellow, who had been monopolizing almost all the conversation of the company, consisting of some sixteen passengers, had been narrating the wonderful exploits he had performed, the prodigies of valor of which he had been the hero, and the wonderful escapes of which he had been the subject, At least he related one adventure in which he was the principal actor, which was so perfectly astounding, that a low whistle of incredulity was a simultaneous demonstration on the part of the passengers. An old gentleman, with a solemn visage, and an ivory-headed cane, sitting in the back corner of the stage, here observed:

"That last adventure of yours, my young friend, is a very extraordinary one-very extraordinary. One could hardly believe it without having seen it. I didn't see it; but I can relate a circumstance which happened in my family, and in which I was for a time deeply interested, which is almost as remarkable, and I believe quite as true. Will you hear it?" Certainly," said our braggadocio; "I should be very glad to hear it."

"Give it to us! give it to us!" echoed the whole company, getting an inkling, from the solemn phiz of the old gentleman, that something rich was in the wind.

64

Well, sir," continued the narrator, "the circumstance to which I alluded is this: My father had three children. He had an only brother, who had also three children. My grandfather had left to my father and my uncle a large estate, in the executorship of which a quarrel broke out, which grew more and more bitter, until at length the aid of the law was invoked, and many years of violent litigation ensued, during all which time the costs of the proceedings were gradually eating up the estate. My father and uncle saw this, and though bitter enemies, they had too much sense to bite each his own nose off. They were chivalrous and brave men, almost as much, probably, as yourself, sir (addressing the daring young gentleman aforesaid), and they determined to 'fight it out among themselves,' as the saying is, and thus keep the money in the family. Well, sir, my father made this proposition to my uncle; to wit: that the should age, three sons of each, in the order of their settle the disputed question on the field of honor; the majority of the survivors to decide the affirmative. It was readily acceded to. My eldest brother went out, on the appointed day, and at the first fire he fell dead upon the turf. My next eldest brother took his station at once, and at the second fire, shot my next eldest cousin through the lungs, and he never drew a whole breath afterward."

Here the old gentleman's emotion was so great that he paused a moment, as if to collect himself. Presently he proceeded:

"It now became my turn to take the stand; and
upon me rested the hopes of my family. I can truly
say, that it was not so much fear that made my hand
We took
tremble and my pistol to waver: it was the deep
sense of responsibility that rested upon me.
our places-a simultaneous discharge was a moment
after heard-and, and—”

Here the narrator put his handkerchief to his face,
and seemed to shake with irrepressible agitation.
"Well, sir," exclaimed our young Munchausen
who had listened to the narrative with almost breath.
less attention, "well, sir-well?--what was the re
sult? How did it end?"

"I was shot dead the first fire!" replied the old
gentleman; the property passed into the hands of
my uncle and his family; and my surviving brother
has been poor as a rat ever since!"

An uproarious laugh, that fairly shook the coach, told "Braggadocio" that he had been slightly "taken in and done for" after a manner entirely his own.

This anecdote will not be lost upon bored listeners to those who shoot with the long bow, or in other words, stretch a fact until they have made it as long as they want it. We have somewhere heard of a man at a dinner-party who was determined not to be outdone in this but too common species of archery. Some one present had been engaged in attracting the attention of the company to an account of a pike that he had caught the day before that weighed nineteen pounds! "Pooh!" exclaimed a gentleman sitting near him, "that is nothing to the one I caught last week, which weighed twenty-six pounds." "Confound it!" whispered the first fisherman to his neighbor, "I wish I could catch my pike again; I'd add ten pounds to him directly!"

THERE is something more than mere good measures in the following lines. There is a satire upon Love and Mammon, when the deep affections of the heart reach a greater depth in the pocket:

"Dear friend, I'm glad to meet you here,
But scarce know what to say,
For such an angel I have seen

At your mamma's to-day!
Of fairer form than Venus, when
She trod the Grecian shore;
And then such splendid hair and eyes
I never saw before.

"Her air and manners were divine,
Above all petty arts;

Oh, surely she was formed to reign
The peerless Queen of Hearts.
Dear Bob, we have been college friends,
And friendship's still the same;
Now only tell me who she is-
Oblige me with her name.

"Fine hair and eyes!'-'the Queen of Hearts"
Who can she be ?-oh, yes!

I know her now-why, Frederick, that's
My sister's governess!'

Your sister's governess!!-Indeed

I thought it might be so;
She looks genteel-but still there is
About her something low!"

Ir is not a little amusing, or it would be if it were not rather a serious matter oftentimes, to hear a sur geon who loves his profession talk with another of the "splendid fungus" which he had recently re moved, or the "beautiful case of amputation of both arms at the shoulder," which he had just witnessed.. A fair travesty of this is afforded in the letter pur. porting to come from an apothecary in the country te a friend in London, wherein, among other things, he wrote: "My patients are rather select than numer

ous, but I think the red lamp and brass plate may attract a few. I had a glorious case of dislocation of the shoulder last week, and nearly pulled the fellow in half with the assistance of two or three bricklayers who were building next door. The other doctor tried first, and couldn't reduce it, because he had no bricklayers at hand. This has got my name up, rather. They are terrible Goths down here though. You can scarcely conceive the extent of their ignorance. Not one in twenty can read or write; and so all my dispensing-labels which I tie on the bottles are quite thrown away. A small female toddled into the surgery the other day, and horrified me by drawl

ing out:

"If you please, sir, mother's took the lotion, and rubbed her leg with the mixture!'

SYMPATHY, we find described on a slip in our "Drawer" to be "A sensibility of which its objects are oftentimes insensible." It may be considered wrong to discourage a feeling of which there is no great superabundance is this selfish and hard-hearted world; but even of the little that exists, a portion is frequently thrown away; a fact sufficiently illustrat ed by two amusing instances, cited by the writer in question:

"A city damsel, whose ideas had been Arcadian ized by the perusal of pastorals, having once made an excursion to a distance of twenty miles from London, wandered into the fields, in the hope of discovering a boná-fide live 'shepherd.' To her great delight, she at length encountered one, under a green hedge, with his dog by his side, his crook' in his "This might have been serious, for the lotion con-hand, and his sheep round about him, just as if he sained a trifle of poison; but Jack and I started off directly; and as it happened very luckily to be washing-day, we drenched the stupefied woman with soap-suds and pearl-ash, until every thing was thrown off from the stomach, including, I suspect, a quantity of the lining membrane. This taught me the lesson, that a medical man should always have his instruments in order; for if Jack had not borrowed my stomach-pump to squirt at the cats with, a good deal of bother might have been avoided. But he is a clever fellow at heart, and would do any thing for me. He quite lived on the ice during the frost, tripping every body up he came near; and whether he injured them seriously or not, I know the will was good, and was therefore much obliged to him!"

It would be a curious thing, if they could be traced out, to ascertain the origin of half the quaint old sayings and maxims that have come down to the present time from unknown generations. Who, for example, was DICK," who had the odd-looking "hat-band," and who has so long been the synonym or representative of oddly-acting people? Who knows any thing authentic of the leanness of "Job's turkey," who has so many followers in the ranks of humanity? Scores of other sayings there are, concerning which the same, or similar questions might be asked. Who ever knew, until comparatively late years, what was the origin of the cautionary saying, "Mind your P's and Q's?" A modern antiquarian, however, has put the world right in relation to that saying: In ale-houses, in the olden time, when chalk "scores" were marked upon the wall, or behind the door of the tap-room, it was customary to put the initials "P" and "Q" at the head of every man's account, to show the number of "pints" and "quarts" for which he was in arrears; and we may presume many a friendly rustic to have tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, when he was indulging too freely in his potations, and to have exclaimed, as he pointed to the chalk-score, "Mind your P's and Q's, man! mind your P's and Q's!" The same writer, from whom we glean this information, mentions an amusing anecdote in connection with it, which had its origin in London, at the time a "Learned Pig" was attracting the attention of half the town. A theatrical wag, who attended the porcine performances, maliciously set before the four-legged actor some peas a temptation which the animal could not resist, and which immediately occasioned him to lose the "cue" given him by the showman. The pig-exhibitor remonstrated with the author of the mischief, on the unfairness of what he had done; to which he replied: "I only wanted to ascertain whether the pig knew his "peas" from his "cues!"

were sitting to be modeled in China for a chimney-
ornament. To be sure, he did not exhibit the blue
jacket, jessamine vest, pink inexpressibles, and
peach-colored stockings of those faithful portraitures.
This was mortifying: still more so was it, that he
was neither particularly young nor cleanly; but most
of all, that he wanted the indispensable accompani-
ment of a pastoral reed, in order that he might be-
guile his solitude with the charms of music. Touched
with pity at this privation, and lapsing unconscious-
ly into poetical language, the damsel exclaimed:
"Ah, gentle shepherd! tell me, where's your
pipe?'

66

"I left it at home, miss,' replied the clown, scratching his head, 'cause I haint got no 'baccy!" The "sentiment" was satisfied at once in this case, as it was in the other, which is thus presented A benevolent committee-man of the Society for superseding the necessity of climbing chimney-sweep boys, seeing a sooty urchin weeping bitterly at the corner of a street, asked him the cause of his dis. tress; to which the boy replied:

"Master has been using me shamefully: he has been letting Jim Hudson go up the chimney at Num ber Nine, when it was my turn. He said it was too high and too dangerous for me; but I'll go up a chimney with Jim Hudson any day in the year; that's what I will; and he knows it, and master knows it too!"

Sympathy was rather thrown away in this case, that's quite certain.

WINTER is upon us; the biting winds rattle our window-shutters and howl down our chimneys. "Poor naked wretches" tremble in the fierce cold;" and homeless, houseless women and children huddle in the alleys and hiding-places of the city. GOD help the poor! Now is the time to remember them. Let the rich recall "poor old Lear," when deprived of his kingdom, and reduced to want, the cold rains beat pitilessly upon his white head, he was forced to exclaim, remembering what he might have done when he had the power, "We have ta'en too little care of this!" Let no disappointment, such as is most forcibly expressed in these lines, add an ad ditional drop to the cup of bitterness which is commended to the lips of the poor of our city:

REJOICE! hope dawns upon the poor;
The rich man's heard our prayer;
He'll open wide the garner door,
And bid us come and share.

He feels the bread-seed was not given
Alone to swell his pride;

But that GOD sent it down from heaven,
For all the world beside.

Wail! wail! the rich man's word has proved
A syren sound alone!

He looked upon the wealth he loved;

And then his heart was stone!
Oh, would the dull, insensate clod
Give forth its yearly store,
If our great FATHER and our GoD
Had thought not of the poor?

A STORY has been for many years current, that an eccentric gentleman, of some scientific aspirations, residing on Long Island, not a thousand miles from New York, once induced a thick-set and very green Hibernian to ascend a very remarkably high and spreading tree, near his residence, accompanied by a curious nondescript flying-machine, by the aid of which he was to soar off, and float very softly down upon the bosom of mother Earth! All being ready, the aeronaut started from a platform which had been built in the topmost branches. He "slode" over the branches, and then "toppled down headlong" to the ground, covered with the wrecks of his scientific master's flying-machine, and making another wreck of himself. He "heard something drop," and it was a foolish Irishman! When taken up, it was found that he had broken both his arms, a leg, dislocated a shoulder, and otherwise seriously injured himself. Being dong ill, at his employer's cost and charges, the "flying-machine," so signally destroyed, was considered a "permanent investment." This incident, which is really true, reminds us of the story of "The Flying Cobbler," an old Irish story, of which we find a record preserved in "The Drawer:"

"When Felix showed himself on. the top battlement of the tower from which he was to jump, opening and shutting a great pair of black wings that were fastened to his shoulders, every face in the great crowd was turned up to gaze at him. I thought myself that the tower never looked such a murdering height from the ground as when I looked at the poor devil standing on the tip-top stone, as unconcerned as an old cormorant on a rock, flapping his wings for a flight. At length, by his motions we saw that he was preparing to be off in earnest. The men held their breath hard, and the women began to tremble and cry; and then, all of a sudden, he made a jump off the battlement, and sailed away 'most illigant.' A wild shout of delight arose from the people, but before it had ceased the glory of poor Felix was done up.' After two or three flutters, his wings fell flat to his sides, his heels went up, and down he came tumbling like a wild-goose with a shot through his gizzard, plump to the ground! Every body thought that it was all over with him; but when we ran to pick him up, we found him lying on his back, not dead, but groaning most pitifully. We took him up as tenderly as we could, and carried him home, and laid him on his bed. When the doctor came he found that both his legs were smashed. Not a word nor a groan escaped him. After he came to his senses, he lay with his eyes open near an hour; and then, when the doctor was setting one of the broken bones, he tried to raise himself up in the bed, and with the fire dancing in his eyes, he said: "Doctor, dear, how long will it be before I'm cured again?'

"Really,' says the doctor, 'I can't possibly take upon me to say, precisely. "Tis a bad case, and I don't apprehend that you can be perfectly recovered under three months.'

"And what was that, Felix ?' "The tail, mother! If I'd not forgot me tail,. could have flew to Ameriky and back again!'"

Code

Now that what is called, or miscalled the of Honor," is falling into desuetude in regions of the following laughable burlesque upon the manner in country where it was once considered binding, the which modern duels are sometimes brought about, and conducted, will doubtless, as the newspapers say, be "read with interest:"

say something very severe about somebody abroad, "William Singsmall, Esquire, thought proper to when the expression was taken up by Mr. Flea, a friend of the insulted party, who happened to be within reach of William Singsmall, Esquire. Mr. Flea waited on Mr. Singsmall, who refused to retract. Ulterior measures were hinted at, and the following series of hostile notes and messages ensued:

I.

"Sir: Understanding you have imputed cowardice to my friend William Singsmall, Esquire, I call on you either to retract, or refer me to a friend. As the matter presses, Ibeg, on the part of William Singsmall, Esquire, that you will answer this when I return from Paris, where I am going for three weeks. "Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK. "To James Flea, Esquire."

II.

"SIR: I received your note, and went immediately into the country; but on my return to town you shall hear from me with the least possible delay.

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

III.

"SIR: I have got your note, and will see about it.
"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

IV.

"SIR: I have waited every day at the club, from ten in the morning until twelve at night, for the last month, hoping to hear from you.

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

V.

"SIR: My object in writing to you was not on my own account, but on behalf of William Singsmall, Esquire, to alleged that you threatened to cane him, while he was whom you have most offensively imputed cowardice, and hidden in the larder of the club-house.

"You will see that as a man of honor he must take some notice of this. I am going out of town for a few weeks, and as soon as convenient after my return shall be glad to hear from you.

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

VI.

"SIR: I did go to the club-house with a cane under my coat, for the purpose of pitching into Singsmall. I had the solemn assurance of the porter that Singsmall had entered the club and had not left it; but on searching the house he was not to be found. I can only presume that your friend was under the sink or in the larder, and I therefore can not consider him entitled to any 'thing better than the severe drubbing I mean to inflict upon him.

whenever I shall be so fortunate as meet him.

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

VII.

"SIR: I expected you would have referred me to a friend, and shall wait at the club until I hear from you again-unless I am called away by other engagements.

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

After this correspondence, Flea sent a friend to Skullthick, who declared he had no quarrel with any one, but only wished his friend Singsmall to have the opportunity of being shot through the body by Flea, whose friend insisted that he (Flea) should fight no one but him (Skullthick). Skullthick, on the contrary, had no quarrel with Flea; but although a married man, was ready to fight Flea's friend, who threw himself into the hands of somebody else, who "The cause of my failing to-day, mother. The would have nothing to do with any of them. And wings were right, but I forgot one thing.'

""Three months! Oh the devil! what am I to do? Three months!-when I had just found it out!' "Found what out, jewel?' said his mother, who was sitting by his bedside.

there the matter ended'

Literary Notices.

sphere, that of a parish priest for example, his flock would not have been able to find a single fault in their minister. The love and admiration of his intimate friends would only have been a more em phatic expression of the feeling of the little world whose happiness it was to live within sight and hear ing of him. His personal virtue was not merely un blemished; it was luminously bright. His counte nance shone with goodness, truth, purity, benevo

Wesley and Methodism, by ISAAC TAYLOR (published by Harper and Brothers), is one of the most characteristic productions of the author, and on account of its deep reflective spirit, its comprehensive breadth of view, its subtle analysis of psychological manifestations, its acute and independent criticisms of great popular movements, its unmistakable earnestness of tone, and its catholic freedom from sectarian limitations, may be regarded as possessing a greater significance than most of the theological pub-lence; a sanctity belonged to him, which was felt by lications of the day. Mr. Taylor's favorite theme of every one in his presence, as if it were a power with discussion is the philosophical import of the histor- which the atmosphere was fraught. It was Wesley's ical developments of religion. Deeply imbued with virtue and piety that gave form and tone to his teachthe spirit of contemplation, he is not a dogmatist, noring, and his teaching has embodied itself in the a partisan. His own religious convictions are too prominent to allow any hesitation as to their character; but he has divested his mind, to a singular degree, of the influence of personal tendencies, in pronouncing judgment on the object of his investigations. He evidently intends to be impartial-and this is no slight praise—to obtain an uncolored view of the facts which he is considering, to do justice to every trait of excellence, wherever discovered, and to abstain from all indulgence of needless censure, even when compelled to express an unfavorable opinion.

In the present work Mr. Taylor discusses the origin, the progress, the actual condition, and the future application of Wesleyan Methodism, as an instrument, under Providence, for the spiritual elevation of mankind. Regarding Methodism as a divinelyappointed development of the Gospel, acknowledging the hand of God in its rise and progress, holding the character and labors of its early founders in affectionate veneration, and deeming it fraught with momentous ulterior consequences, although temporary in its import, he presents a series of consecutive sketches of its history, depicting the wonderful events which attended its energetic progress, analyzing the causes which impeded its universal triumph, and tracing the conditions of its wide success to the elementary principles in the religious

nature of man.

Christian-like behavior of tens of thousands of his people on both sides the Atlantic.

Of Whitefield, Mr. Taylor remarks, that the secret of his power over the vast multitudes that he moulded like wax, was a vivid perception of the reality of spirit. ual things, and the concentrated force with which he brought them to bear on the conscience and imagin ation of his hearers. His singular gifts as a speaker rested on the conceptive faculty as related to those objects that are purely spiritual, both abstract and concrete; and with him this faculty had a compass, a depth, and an intensity of sensitiveness, never, perhaps, equaled. While he spoke the visible world seemed to melt away into thin mist, and the real, the eternal world to come out from among shadows, and stand forth in awful demonstration. This faculty was by no means that of the poet or the painter, which is sensuous in its material. If it had been of this sort, he would have left us monuments of his genius, like a Divina Commedia, or a Paradise Lost, or a series of Michael Angelo cartoons. The history of Whitefield's ministry is simply this: The Gospel he proclaimed drew around him dense masses of men as soon as he commenced his course; it was the power of religious truth, not the preacher's harmonious voice, not his graceful action, not his fire as an orator, that gained him power over congregations to the last.

In the remainder of the volume, Mr. Taylor considers the primary elements of Methodism, its relations to society, and its position in the future. These topics are discussed with sagacity, and with perfect candor, although not in a manner to command universal assent. Whatever opinion may be formed as to his conclusions, no one can doubt the suggestiveness of his comments, nor the earnestness of his inquiries The style of this work, which we do not admire, be trays the same intellectual habits as the former treat ises of the author. He writes like a man more ad He simply

The first, and by far the most interesting portion of the volume, is occupied with a description of the founders of Methodism, including the two Wesleys, John and Charles, Whitefield, Fletcher, Coke, and Lady Huntingdon. Without entering into the minute details of biography, which have been anticipated by Watson, Southey, and other writers, Mr. Taylor gives a discriminating critical estimate of the devoted apostles, to whose zeal and intrepidity England was indebted for the revival of the religious life, at a time when she had far lapsed from the warmth and vital-dicted to reflection than to utterance. ity of spiritual Christianity. John Wesley, in the opinion of the author, has never been surpassed by any general, statesman, or churchman, in administrative skill-in the faculty of adapting himself to the circumstances of the moment, without compromise of his authority or personal dignity. For more than half a century he passed through the most difficult conjunctures with admirable success. His simplicity and integrity of purpose were in perfect harmony with the simplicity of his institution, enabling him to manage with ability what had been devised by skill.

Nor was his personal character less worthy of affoction and homage. If he had moved in a private

records his own musings as they succeed each other in the solitude of the closet, without aiming, at the force, point, and effective brevity of expression, which is necessary to obtain a mastery over the minds of others. He seems to regard language as an aid to his own meditations, rather than a medium of intercourse with his fellow-men. His writings are far more like a monologue than an address. He aims to clear up his own convictions, to reduce them to order, and to give them an outward embodiment, by their visible expression, rather than to enforce them on the attention of his readers. Hence, he is often diffuse, even to languor; and nothing but the vigor of his thought could prevent a wearisome monotony

Under the title of Words in Earnest, a collection Nor does the Great Alexander fare better at the of valuable essays from the pens of several eminent hands of our merciless iconoclast: "If we consider clergymen, has been issued by E. H. Fletcher. The calmly the atrocities committed by his orders and unwork includes two able discourses on "The Moral der his authority at Thebes, at Tyre, at Gaza, and Influence of Cities," and an essay on "The The- the barbarous torments inflicted in cold-blooded policy, atre," by Rev. W. W. EVERTS; an admirable appeal alike on the good and gallant Britis and on the brutto the young men of cities on the importance of " Men- al and blood-thirsty Bressos-if we remember the untal Improvement," by Rev. J. W. ALEXANDER; a relenting, if not undeserved slaughter of the highsound and instructive article on "The Duties of Em-spirited and brave Parmenion, the ruthless slaughter ployers to the Employed," by Rev. WILLIAM HAGUE; an argumentative essay, maintaining the retributive character of Punishment," by Prof. ANDERSON; and an eloquent plea for "Children," and for "The Sabbath," by Rev. GEO, B. CHEEVER. The work abounds in salutary counsels, expressed with pungency and